


i got you right where i want you

by expectopatronuz



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anniversary, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectopatronuz/pseuds/expectopatronuz
Summary: “Next year. I’m going to plan you the cutest fucking anniversary you’ve ever seen in your life.”“It’s just a day,” Michael laughs.“It’s a day that means something, though. Let’s do something big, okay?"or, 5 times Michael and Calum’s anniversary went wrong and one time it didn’t
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	i got you right where i want you

**Author's Note:**

> i was inspired by my own anniversary coming up to write this little thing! title is from desperate measures by marianas trench and i'm on tumblr if anyone wants to come chat!

1.

Calum is fucking around on YouTube in his bunk. They’re on their way to Dallas, had to be up early even though they don’t have a show, tonight, and the drive isn’t that long. Calum had tried to fall back to sleep, but he doesn’t sleep well on the bus, and he knows he’ll get a good sleep tonight at the hotel, anyways.

The bus comes to a stop, somewhere in between cities, maybe for gas or maybe so their driver can stretch his legs. Calum plans to stay put, plans to pretend that he’s sleeping. He hears Ashton and Luke loudly decide to go for a walk, and then there’s quiet.

Until Michael tears open the curtains and Calum flinches away from the light.

“Don’t be dramatic, I can see you were on your phone,” Michael says. He leans his arms on Calum’s bunk and rests his chin on them – Calum has a top bunk, so Michael barely has to bed down to get right in Calum’s face.

“I’m tired,” Calum whines, because he is, even though he wasn’t sleeping.

“Did you know it’s our anniversary today?” Michael asks. Calum thinks, realizes that yes, it is the day that they decided is their anniversary. The thing is, they’ve been an informal couple since they were in middle school, they always kind of knew that the other had feelings, but they took a while to get over themselves and call it what it was. They don’t know what their first date was, don’t know how to count it. They decided a while ago that they would count the day of their first kiss as their anniversary, but it feels a little redundant, because the introduction of kissing to their relationship didn’t change a whole lot.

“It’s like, 8am,” Calum says.

“It’s 11,” Michael argues.

“Really?” Calum must have really gotten lost in his YouTube spiral.

“Calum,” Michael says, whiney and soft all at once. “Three years. That’s a big deal.”

“Jesus, three years, really?”

Michael shrugs. “I guess it’s hard to put a number on it.”

“Only because I’ve loved you my whole life,” Calum says. Michael rolls his eyes fondly.

“Shut up.”

“It’s true, though,” Calum brings a hand up, threads his fingers through Michael’s hair. “We should do something, tonight.”

“Like what?”

“Dinner? I could make reservations, somewhere?”

“Just us?” Michael asks.

“Of course, just us,” Calum says. It’s not that they’ve been neglecting each other, but it’s hard to have alone time while on the road. Maybe they need this, maybe it’s perfect timing for an anniversary, however arbitrary.

“Are you sure? Because I know you were looking forward to an early night.”

“I can still have an early night,” Calum says. “I’m sure. Three years is a big deal.”

Michael grins. “Okay.”

“If we’re going out later, you’ve got to let me sleep now, though,” Calum says, playfully pokes Michael’s shoulder, pushing him away from the bunk.

“You’re not going to sleep, you’re going to keep watching conspiracy theory videos,” Michael says, but he steps back, starts walking over to the back lounge.

“Let me live,” Calum shouts after him, then opens Google to try to find the perfect restaurant.

Calum finds the perfect restaurant. It’s classy but warm, close but private, has something perfect for each of their tastes.

Calum makes an early reservation so that they can go to bed early, afterwards. He even lays out an outfit when they get to their hotel and catches Michael grinning about it.

“You’re cute,” Michael says when he sees that Calum has noticed.

“You’re cuter,” Calum says, because Michael has already burrowed himself in the hotel sheets, tucked all the way up to his chin.

“Just come nap,” Michael whines.

“You should have slept on the bus like I did.”

“We both know you didn’t sleep,” Michael says. “When do we have to leave?”

“5:45, probably.”

“Okay, set an alarm for 5:00, then,” Michael produces his phone from under the covers, taps at it a few times then leans over to plug it into his charger.

Calum crawls into his side of the bed – always the left, no matter where in the world they are. As soon as he’s laying down, Michael is shuffling forward, pressing himself into Calum’s side.

“Leech,” Calum says, but taps at Michael’s head so that he lifts it and Calum can slide his arm under Michael’s neck.

“Space heater,” Michael fires back. “Keeping me warm for three years, as of today.”

“More like six years, at minimum.”

“Twelve, if you count from the first time we hugged,” Michael points out, and Calum groans.

“We have too many firsts to keep track of already, don’t add another one.”

“It’s not my fault you have the memory of a goldfish.”

“Actually,” Calum says. “The 3-second memory thing is a myth.”

Michael groans. “The reference is still relevant, though.”

“I just think that if you’re going to make fun of me, it should at least be theoretically accurate.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Michael points out, which is fair.

“Name one time,” Calum says, because despite the shit that Michael gives him about his memory, Michael is nearly as bad.

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll show you screenshots,” Michael goes to turn, reaches for his phone. It’s a bluff, and Calum knows that it’s a bluff, so he tightens his arm to keep Michael tucked into his side.

“Show me at dinner, I’m tired.”

“It’s rude to have your phone out at dinner.”

“I have never even once eaten a dinner with you where you didn’t have your phone out,” Calum says, and Michael snorts into his chest.

“I thought you were tired.”

“Never too tired to call you on your lies.”

“Maybe I’m too tired to take your call out.”

“You don’t get to be too tired to take it if you’re not too tired to dish it out,” Calum says. Michael hums and burrows further into Calum’s chest, which Calum takes as a victory. “Hey Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary, you absolute sap.”

They wake to a banging on the door.

Answer your phones!” Ashton shouts. “We’re going to be late for soundcheck!”

Michael groans next to Calum, stirs and rubs his eyes. Calum tries to place himself, to figure out why what he’s hearing is off.

“Michael,” he says when it hits, “Did you set the alarm?”

“Fuck,” Michael fumbles for his phone on the bedside table to check the time – they slept through the entire evening, night, and morning. “I told you to set the alarm.”

“I thought you were just like, stating it to the room.”

“Fuck,” Michael says again. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I was more awake, I should have been—”

“Calum,” Michael says. “It was no one’s fault. We’ve both been so tired, we clearly needed the sleep.”

“But it was our anniversary,” Calum says, soft and disappointed. “Three years is a big deal.”

“It’s just a day, Calum,” Michael says gently. He’s forgiven Calum before Calum has even had a chance to develop his guilt, and Calum loves him a lot.

“It was an important day. It should have been a special day.”

Michael places his hands on Calum’s cheeks, holding him in place. “You do not get to make fun of me for saying this, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Every day is special, because I get to do all of this with you.”

Calum tries to supress his grin into something sweet, but it grows beyond his capabilities. Michael groans and flops face first back onto his pillow until Ashton comes pounding at the door again.

2.

Calum wakes up early, partly because of the time difference, partly because of the sun. It’s bright and warm coming in through his balcony doors, Hawaii coming through like it always does.

Ashton is already awake, texting in his bed.

“Want to go for a hike in like 20 minutes?” Calum asks. Ashton doesn’t look up from his phone.

“I ordered room service, wait until after we’ve eaten.”

Calum hums in understanding, then reaches for his phone. It’s still early in Los Angeles, or at least, it’s still early for Michael. Calum texts him anyways, says **_Good morning, and happy anniversary, love_**.

Calum doesn’t expect a text back for a while – they’re on a tour break, they have three weeks off before they start up again in Tulsa. Calum and Ashton had jumped on the chance to take a holiday, to go visit somewhere and actually have time to explore it. Luke and Michael had decided to stay in LA for drastically different reasons – Luke wanted to see friends that he doesn’t work with, wanted to be social and get really drunk without repercussions. Michael wanted time alone, wanted to sleep and stare at a screen all day and to not have to use his voice for hours at a time.

It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time – Michael knows that Calum has a hunger for travel, wants to actually experience some of the world that they usually only see through hotel rooms and tour bus windows. Calum knows that Michael is, at heart, an introvert – he needs quiet and room to breathe. They understand each other, and they don’t often have unrestricted breaks like this, so the anniversary didn’t really factor into either of their decisions.

But now, as Calum gets dressed for a hike, breathing in the salty ocean air and staring out at the waves lapping onto the beach, he wishes that Michael were here.

They come back after lunch to change but head right back out to the beach, so Calum doesn’t check his phone again until much later.

Michael texted back only once, late in the afternoon, LA time. He said **_Happy anniversary_** , and nothing else. Calum shouldn’t be worried, should assume that Michael has been busy playing games and sleeping like he needs to, but Michael is not usually a short texter, usually double and triple and quadruple texts as he thinks of things that Calum might like to hear.

It’s nearly ten in LA now, but it’s not like Michael’s going to be going to sleep any time soon.

“Ashton,” Calum says. Ashton is currently shuffling around in the bathroom, possibly organizing their counterspace, again. He pokes his head out at his name. “Can you leave the room for like, half an hour?”

“Why?” Ashton says, but he’s already gathering his wallet and phone.

“I want to call Michael,” Calum says.

“I thought this was a bro trip? No boyfriend drama?” Ashton says, without judgement. Calum snorts – Michael and Luke are never really dramatic (at least, they’re not dramatic _like that_ ).

“I know, but, you know. Anniversary.”

Ashton whips his head up from where he’d bent to pull on his shoes. “Today?”

“I mean, technically. We don’t really have just one easy date, but this is the one that we celebrate,” Calum says, like they’ve ever celebrated their anniversary.

“You should have said something earlier, we could have stuck around the hotel!”

“We both know it would just piss him off if he thought I was coddling him.”

“But it’s your anniversary,” Ashton says, bewildered.

“Only kind of,” Calum argues.

Ashton shakes his head. “I’ll never understand your relationship.”

“When you’ve been with Luke as long as I’ve been with Michael, you’ll get it.”

“We’ve been together nearly as long,” Ashton argues.

“But me and Michael have basically been together since we were like, 14.”

Ashton huffs. “I’m not going to explain how wrong you are right now. Just call your boyfriend.”

“I’m waiting for you to leave,” Calum says.

“Right,” Ashton rolls his eyes, but double checks for his key card and nods. “Text me when you’re done.”

“Okay,” Calum says, and then Ashton is finally gone.

Michael hates unexpected phone calls, so Calum texts, **_I miss you, can I call?_**

Michael texts back **_sure_** , which isn’t promising but _is_ acceptable, so Calum calls him.

“Hi,” Michael answers, soft and raspy, like he hasn’t spoken all day. He probably hasn’t, and he’s probably happy about it. He doesn’t _sound_ upset, despite the short texts.

“Happy anniversary,” Calum says, even though he already texted it.

“You already texted that,” Michael says.

“It’s different to say,” Calum says. “Are you really not going to say it back?”

“What’s in it for me?” Michael jokes.

“Presents from Hawaii?”

“There are presents?”

“No, but there will be, if you say it.”

“Fine,” Michael laughs. “Happy anniversary.”

“Was that so hard?”

“No, I just like to watch you squirm.”

“This is getting too explicit too quickly.”

“You think that’s explicit?” Michael laughs. “I can show you explicit—”

“I can’t keep Ashton kicked out all night, so you’d better not,” Calum says.

“You kicked him out?” Michael asks, voice going a bit soft again, inexplicably.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you. Just you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Michael says, but Calum can hear that he’s happy he did.

“Four years,” Calum says. “It’s a big deal.”

“It is,” Michael says.

“Are you doing okay?” Calum asks. He waits for an answer, but Michael goes quiet. “You haven’t said much today, is all, and I don’t like the thought of you spending all this time alone.”

“I’m okay,” Michael says. “I need to be alone sometimes, it feels good to be alone.”

“But?”

“I do kind of wish I’d come,” Michael admits cautiously. “Just for today, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Calum says apologetically. He wonders if he should have pushed a little harder, asked more than once.

“I mean, I’m happy I’m here, because I know I’ll feel good when tour starts, I needed the break, I just – you know.”

Calum does know – Michael misses him, and Calum misses Michael too. “I should have stayed,” Calum says.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Michael says, firmly. “We both chose the right thing for us, I just miss you today and want to whine.”

Calum laughs. “I will accept the whining for today only.”

“You chose me despite the whining, you knew what you were getting into.”

“ _Chose_? What do you mean _chose_ , you’ve always been it. It’s only been you, all along,” Calum says, too sincere at the end. But hey, it’s their anniversary. Calum can be a bit sincere.

“Cal—” Michael says, then trails off.

“Next year we’ll go big, okay?”

“What?”

“Next year. I’m going to plan you the cutest fucking anniversary you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“It’s just a day,” Michael laughs.

“It’s a day that means something, though. Let’s do something big, okay? I want to do something big.”

“Calum, it’s okay,” Michael says. “I just miss you, I don’t need grand gestures.”

“You don’t need them, but you deserve them.”

“What would this anniversary entail?”

“It’s a surprise,” Calum says, because he has no idea. “But I promise it’ll be great.”

3.

Calum’s actually really proud of himself, for this one.

He’s planned the whole night, which includes visiting their favourite spots in the city, dinner at the first restaurant they ate at in LA, a visit to a private room in a karaoke bar where Calum’s had them load up all of the songs they’ve ever written for each other, and a dessert picnic under the stars with all of Michael’s favourites and a few clichés. To top it all off, while they’re gone, Calum’s convinced Roy to go decorate their bedroom, cover it in flower petals and candles like a bad teen movie, which Michael will laugh at, but secretly appreciate.

They’re supposed to be leaving at 6. Ashton calls at 5:50.

“I know this night is important to you,” Ashton says when Calum answers, before Calum has had the chance to speak. “You know I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t really important.”

It’s morning in Australia, but Ashton sounds like he hasn’t slept. “What is it?” Calum asks, even though he knows.

“Luke,” Ashton says. “He’s not answering my calls or texts, I called the neighbors and had them knock on the door, but he didn’t answer.”

“This is not the best time for you to be in Australia,” Calum complains, which isn’t fair, because it’s Ashton’s mums birthday, and it’s important to him to be there for as many of the big moments as he can be.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Ashton says, and he means it.

“I’ll grab Michael and head right over, okay? I’ll call when we get in.”

“Thank you, Cal. And thank Michael, too.”

Calum hangs up and shouts for Michael down the hall.

“I thought we were leaving at 6?” Michael says, but he comes around the corner already ready. He looks really fucking good, and Calum wishes he had the time to really look at him.

“Ashton called,” Calum says. “It’s Luke.”

“Fuck, okay. Let’s go,” Michael says. It’s sad that it’s bad enough that Calum doesn’t even need to explain.

Calum unlocks the door with his spare key and Michael tears into the house, calling for Luke. Petunia is sleeping on the couch, and the place is cluttered in a way it would never be if Ashton were here.

“Cal,” Michael calls from the bathroom. Calum rushes after him, finds Michael sitting next to Luke, who is lying curled up around a pillow on the bathroom floor. “He’s alright, I think he’s drunk.”

“I’ll call Ashton,” Calum says, and does so as Michael manages to wake Luke up enough to get him sitting, propped up between Michael’s side and the bathtub.

“Is he okay?” Ashton asks as soon as the call connects, panicked.

“He’s okay. Looks like he fell asleep in the bathroom.”

Ashton sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

“We’re happy to help, Ashton. Anything we can do, we’re here.”

“I know, thank you. I booked a flight for tomorrow, it was the soonest I could get.”

“You should stay,” Calum says. “At least for your mum’s birthday. We can stay with Luke.”

“I’m just going to spend all of my time worrying, after this,” Ashton says, which is fair.

“Okay, well, I’ll pick you up from the airport. Text me the flight details.”

“Okay,” Ashton says, hesitates a second. “I know today is important, but—”

“We’re not going to leave him, Ash. It’s alright. It’s just a day,” Calum says. Michael looks up and smiles at the phrase, and nods his agreement with it. They say goodbye and hang up, and Michael’s starting to get Luke talking.

“What happened?” Michael asks. He has his arm around Luke, is rubbing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Got drunk,” Luke mumbles. “Got sick.”

“When?”

“Dunno,” Luke says. Michael and Calum exchange a concerned glace.

“When did you last eat?”

“Dunno.”

“Cal, can you bring us some water?” Michael asks, so Calum heads for the kitchen. The fridge is stocked, but there are too few dishes in the sink.

Calum comes back and they get Luke to drink most of it, then sit with him for a few minutes to see if he can keep it down.

“Do you think you’ll be able to eat a bit?” Calum asks, when it’s clear that Luke isn’t going to be sick immediately.

“Dunno,” Luke says.

“Alright, let’s get you to the couch. Calum will put something together, okay? Something easy,” Michael says. Calum shoots Michael a glare for volunteering him to cook, but honestly, Michael is pretty useless in the kitchen, so this is really the only way it can go.

Between Calum and Michael, they manage to coax Luke into the living room. Luke curls into Michael’s chest, and Petunia curls into his other side.

“Are you good here?” Calum asks. Michael smiles up at him and nods.

“Me and Petunia, we’ve got this. A perfect team, us,” Michael says, and it makes Luke laugh. Just a choked, aborted thing, but it’s a victory.

“Alright, I’m going to see if they’ve got everything for soup. Call me if you need anything.”

Calum works fast, gets broth going in a pot and chops the vegetables, until he just has to wait for it to boil. Then, defeated, Calum pulls out his phone to cancel his various reservations.

After Luke’s eaten enough to satisfy Calum and Michael’s concern, and after they’ve watched not one, not two, but three Spider-Man movies, they put Luke to bed and help themselves to the guest room.

“I’ve got to leave for the airport before lunch,” Calum says. “You’ll stay with him?”

“Of course,” Michael says as they change into borrowed sweatpants and t-shirts, pulled from Ashton and Luke’s drawers. “We should have checked on him earlier.”

“We couldn’t have known. He said he was fine, Ash said he was fine.”

“He’s not been fine for a while,” Michael reminds Calum, who sighs.

“You’re right. I wanted to believe him, though.”

“Me too,” Michael sighs. They crawl under the covers, Calum on the left.

“Hey,” Calum says. “Five years, today. Our relationship is officially school-aged.”

Michael laughs. “Five years. It feels like less, but it also feels like more.”

“I know,” Calum says. “Can you believe we’ve known each other for fourteen years, now?”

“Yes,” Michael says, lightly, teasing. “You’re a lot to put up with.”

“Hey,” Calum says. “I’m a joy. You’re a lot to put up with.”

“Well we both know _that_ , already.”

“It’s worth it,” Calum says. “You’re a lot of work, but I can handle it,” Calum jokes. Michael goes a bit quiet, though.

“I’m sorry we had to cancel our date,” Michael says. “I know you worked really hard on it.”

“I’d rather be here for him,” Calum says, and he already knows that Michael feels the same.

“Still, thank you for planning it. I’m sure it would have been perfect.”

“You have no idea,” Calum says.

“Tell me about it, then.”

“No, I’m saving those ideas. I’m not going to waste them just because you’re curious.”

Michael groans. “I hate not knowing things.”

“It’s a problem, you should really work on that,” Calum says, grinning.

“I know Roy helped with some part of it, I bet he’d tell me.”

“Roy is loyal, he’d never betray me like that.”

“Probably,” Michael grumbles, because it’s true.

“You’ll see in a year,” Calum says.

“I think we’ll be on tour, in a year,” Michael reminds him.

“I’m creative, I can make it work.”

4.

Even under the best circumstances, Calum doesn’t think he could possibly make something work on a 12-hour flight.

They’re on their way to Auckland from Tokyo. 12-hour flights are never pleasant, they never get used to them. Calum and Michael have a routine that mostly keeps them in decent spirits, but Michael had been sad to leave Japan and had eaten too much foreign, exciting candy, and now he’s sick, and it’s their anniversary, and they’re stuck on a plane.

They’re in first class, which is nice, but it’s not one of the airplanes with the little pods for first class, so they’re still out in the open, and Michael can’t properly lie down.

Michael groans as they hit a spot of turbulence, clutching his stomach. He’s curled up half in his seat and half in Calum’s lap, which doesn’t look comfortable at all, but which he insists is the least nauseating position.

“I know, love,” Calum says, stroking his fingers through Michael’s hair.

“Why did you let me do this to myself?”

“You know you can’t take that much sugar, babe. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Through the space between the seats in front of them, Calum sees Luke mime vomiting to Ashton, who barely conceals a laugh.

“I think this is food poisoning,” Michael says, ignoring Calum. “Those banana marshmallows tasted super old.”

“Could be,” Calum says. There’s no point in arguing when Michael’s sick – he’s stubborn, and besides, he’s so small like this, curled up on Calum, and he’s in pain, and Calum just wants him to feel better.

“How much longer? We’ve been on here forever, already.”

“Nine more hours,” Calum says, rubs on hand on Michael’s back.

“Nine hours? That can’t be right.”

“See for yourself,” Calum says, points at the screen on the back of his seat, open to the flight tracker.

Michael turns to look, then immediately stiffens. “I’m going to be sick,” he says, then rushes off for the bathroom.

Calum leans forward and shoves his face as far between Ashton and Luke’s seats as he can. “You two, shut the fuck up.”

“Come on, he did this to himself,” Luke laughs. Calum wants to remind him of how many times he and Michael have taken care of him after he’s made himself sick from drinking, but Luke’s doing a lot better now and Calum thinks that bringing last year up is probably not productive.

“He was sad to leave Japan and now he’s stuck on a stupid long flight on our anniversary. Give him a break.”

“But he makes it so easy,” Luke whines.

“Luke, leave him alone,” Ashton says, but he’s smirking. “We’ll just write notes back and forth to make fun of him, he’ll never know.”

“Fine,” Luke says. “But I’m making fun of him to his face as soon as he feels better.”

And really, that’s the most Calum can hope for.

Michael finally manages to fall asleep after another couple of hours, now lying across Calum’s chest, propped half-upright, with his legs curled up in his own seat.

Ashton is asleep in front of him – he can tell, because Luke keeps giving him these sickening, fond looks. “Luke,” Calum hisses, and Luke peers through the space between the seats. “Can you come get my headphones out of my bag?”

Luke doesn’t argue, which is surprising. He pulls Calum’s bag out carefully, gentle around Michael.

“You finally feel bad for him?” Calum asks. The past two hours were rough, and Calum lends more credence to Michael’s food poisoning theory than he had before.

“No,” Luke says, but he’s lying. “I was just sick of the complaining.”

“If he’s still sick when we land, we’ll need to get him checked out,” Calum says.

“Yeah, I know. Ashton was trying to use the Wi-Fi to get a hold of Zoe, but he couldn’t get through,” Luke says. He shuffles carefully closer to Calum to plug the headphones in and arrange them on his head without jostling Michael. “Do you think he’ll be good for the show tomorrow?”

“He bounces back quickly,” Calum says, which is true, but usually they don’t have food poisoning.

“I hope so,” Luke says. He looks down at Michael, then reaches over into his seat for his blanket, drapes it over Michael gently, tucks it up to his chin.

“He’ll just get sicker if we don’t keep him warm,” Luke mutters when Calum gives him a fond glance.

“We wouldn’t want to subject you to more of his complaining,” Calum teases, and Luke smiles, despite himself.

“Obviously, why else would I help?” Luke shuffles back into the aisle cautiously. “Do you need anything else? I can grab you some snacks, or something?”

“I’m okay, but thank you,” Calum says. Luke slides back into his seat and Calum carefully extracts an arm from under Michael to pick a film.

Michael wakes up two hours away from landing to rough turbulence.

He groans and presses his face into Calum’s shirt, but he doesn’t rush off to be sick, which is a good sign. He does clutch the blanket tightly around his shoulders, though.

“Want a sweater?” Calum asks, rubs his hand on Michael’s arm to warm him up.

“No, I don’t want to have to sit up to put it on,” Michael says. “Or sit up to take it off when I inevitably get warm again.”

“You’re cold, though.”

“You’re warming me up,” Michael says, so Calum drops it. “How far away, now?”

“Two hours,” Calum says.

Michael nods, signifying that the answer is acceptable. “I can manage two hours.”

“You can. You should drink some water, though,” Calum shifts as slowly as possible to reach for his bottle of water.

“I’ll be sick,” Michael whines.

“Better sick than dehydrated and hospitalized.”

“That’s extremely dramatic,” Michael says, but he takes the water and grimaces his way through a few small sips. “What time is it?”

“In Auckland? Nearly eight, I think?”

“Our anniversary will be nearly over when we land,” Michael says, dejectedly.

“What, you had big plans for the night?” Calum jokes, Michael huffs, doesn’t risk rolling his eyes to prevent further dizziness.

“Obviously not, I just hoped we’d be able to salvage it a little, at least.”

“Hey, I had a good day. Watched two films I missed in theaters, spent time with you—”

“I don’t think I even count as a person, today,” Michael says. Calum thinks he might be right.

“It’s just a day,” Calum says.

“It’s just a day that we cannot get right, even once,” Michael points out.

“To be fair, last year was entirely Luke’s fault,” Calum says. He lowers his voice, but Luke still catches it.

“Hey,” Luke says, turning in his seat. “I apologized for that.”

“You did, and we accepted it,” Calum says.

“Then let it go,” Luke pleads. “I’m a changed man.”

“It’s okay, Luke,” Michael says from Calum’s shirt. “We still love you. You let me use your plane blanket.”

“Well if you’re going to be nice about it, I might regret it,” Luke says. Calum feels Michael laugh into his chest, and grins.

They get to the hotel past midnight, exhausted. Michael is feeling better but still not at his best, and Calum had spent the entire flight awake, fussing over Michael.

They crawl into bed almost wordless and sleep deeply through the night.

5.

It’s not even come out yet, and Calum is already kind of sick of talking about _Teeth_.

It’s a great song, he’d proud of it, he’s proud of Luke’s work on it. It comes out in just over two weeks, and they’ve been awake all hours, pre-filming content, working on the music video, practicing for their live performances, planning their release strategy. Not to mention, they’re also in the process of building the set for the WWJ tour, which was more challenging than they’re used to. Calum had forgotten how much harder it is to build a set when they’re not the headlining band.

Calum is also sick of hearing about the fucking guitar battle.

Michael and Luke have been talking about it for nearly an hour, sitting on the ground, bent over the paper with their scribbled setlist. They know that the fans miss it, and they’re desperately trying to shoehorn it in, but they keep forgetting that guitar battles don’t tend to work in pop songs, which is mostly what they have on the setlist, by now.

Ashton gets up from behind his drums after a while, walks over to Calum. “Did you take your car?”

“No, Michael’s.”

“Want a ride home? We can stop for coffee. They’ll be at this for a while and I’m bored.”

“Yeah, alright,” Calum says. “Michael, can you drive Luke home later?”

Michael nods, briefly pauses his ramblings to look up as Calum presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Ashton’s going to take me home.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

“Good luck,” Calum says, and then he and Ashton head out, Luke and Michael’s increasingly frustrated chatting fading away behind them.

They’re sitting at their favourite coffee shop when Ashton gets a text that lights him up with excitement.

“They’re done the smoke room and the wind tunnel, Zoe says we can go look at them, want to come?”

“Already?” Calum asks, they’re not filming the music video for another few days.

“I guess,” Ashton says. He’s already gathering his things and standing up. “So? You coming?”

“Sure,” Calum says. He thinks his room is supposed to be ready too, and he’s excited to see it.

He texts Michael in the car, says **_Me and Ash are going to check out the video set. Be home soon-ish._** Michael answers with **_Pics or it didn’t happen_** , which Calum is pretty sure is an old joke, but he’s not very familiar with memes, so he doesn’t call Michael on it.

When Calum gets home, Michael is gone again already, with Luke at some sort of meeting. It’s late, Calum and Ashton had stayed much later than they’d planned, talking to the crew on the set and taking pictures for Luke and Michael.

Michael’s ordered Thai food, left some in the fridge for him. Calum eats it over the kitchen counter without heating it up, dogs clambering around his feet like they’re starving even though Michael already told him that he fed them.

“You guys are manipulative, you know that?” Calum says to them, as they stare up sadly. He feeds them each a bit of carrot, though, because he loves them and he’s weak.

Calum reads for a bit, but it gets later and Michael still isn’t home and Calum wants to work out, so he texts Michael to tell him that he’s going to the gym. Calum likes night workouts best, even though they usually aren’t practical.

Calum goes, does his workout and showers at the gym, and when he gets back home, Michael is already in bed, but he’s still awake. He’s on his phone, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Is that Reddit?” Calum asks as he gets ready for bed.

“Tour dates,” Michael says. “Trying to figure out the best days for my parents to come visit.”

“Let me know what you pick, my parents will want to come too.”

Michael hums an acknowledgement, and Calum crawls into bed with him. “Want to see the video set?” Calum asks, and Michael makes grabby hands for Calum’s phone.

“This is the smoke room?” Michael asks.

“Yeah, they said it’ll look better with the lights on it.”

“Everything always does,” Michael says. He flips through, finds the wind tunnel. “I bet Ash was happy with this.”

“He can’t wait to get in it,” Calum says. “This is his video, you know?”

“I know,” Michael says. The video had been primarily Ashton’s idea, and it was nice to see him so excited about his vision come to life. Michael flips through to Calum’s room. “This looks just like the smoke room,” Michael points out.

“They don’t have the brick ready, yet. Plus, the lights will make it obvious.”

“Right,” Michael says, satisfied. “And mine’s not done?”

“Not yet,” Calum says. Michael hands back the phone.

“It looks really good,” Michael says. “It’s going to be a really good video. What time do we start filming on Thursday, again?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Let me check,” Calum opens his calendar, goes to click on Thursday, but notices the little white number in the little red dot, indicating today’s date. “Michael.”

“What?”

“It’s the sixth.”

“So?”

“The sixth of August.”

Michael is silent for a second. “Shut the fuck up,” he says, reaches for Calum’s phone and confirms that yes, today was their anniversary, and they didn’t even notice. “Fuck.”

“I can’t believe we forgot,” Calum says.

“We never do well, but we’re never this bad,” Michael says. “What should we do? Is there anything still open?”

“Nothing good, it’s a Tuesday.”

“Fuck,” Michael says. “We could go for a walk somewhere?”

“You hate going for walks,” Calum reminds him. “Honestly, I’m kind of tired, anyways.”

Michael sighs in defeat. “Me too, but it’s our anniversary.”

“It’s just a day,” Calum says with a grin.

“It’s just a day,” Michael echoes. “Alright, fine. We probably would have managed to fuck our plans up if we’d have made plans, anyways.”

“True, it’s tradition,” Calum says. “How long is it, now? Seven years?”

“Seven years,” Michael confirms. “Our relationship is the same age as we were when we met.”

“Fuck,” Calum laughs. “Our relationship is old enough to start a lifelong love story.”

“Shut up,” Michael laughs. “We are the exception, there.”

“True,” Calum says. “I’ve never met a couple with a history like ours.”

“You don’t meet a lot of couples, to be fair,” Michael says.

“Also true.”

“Maybe next year we’ll pull off some sort of celebration,” Michael says, and Calum snorts.

“There’s no way. This is us, we’re talking about. The most romantic anniversary we’ve ever had was when you slept on me for a 12-hour flight because you got sick from eating too much candy.”

“It was expired candy, not the quantity,” Michael argues. “And our most romantic anniversary was definitely the one that we spent looking after Luke. It made me feel like we were married with a kid.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Calum says. “When we get married, I’ll remember that anniversary.”

“ _When_? Not _if_? That’s awfully confident, considering you haven’t asked me, yet.”

“Who said I have to be the one to ask?” Calum says.

“No one, I’m going to be the one to ask. I’m just throwing you off the trail.”

“You’re terrible at surprises,” Calum says.

“That’s true. You should definitely be the one to ask.”

“Would you wear a ring?” Calum asks, suddenly sincere. “If I got you one?”

“Of course, I’d wear it, Cal,” Michael laughs softly. “I’ll marry you whenever.”

“I still have my idea from our fifth anniversary,” Calum says. “Maybe I’ll use that to propose.”

“It still kills me not knowing what you had planned, that night.”

“I know,” Calum grins. “That’s the best part of it.”

+1.

Calum gets back from his late morning run, and there’s a new addition to the “Fuck Covid” list.

Michael had started the list in March, when the _Wildflower_ video was cancelled, and Calum had been completely unable to hide his disappointment.

Michael had started with only two items on the list, the first being **_fuck covid for cancelling the Wildflower video_** , and the second being **_fuck covid for making grocery shopping even less pleasant than it was before, which was a high bar_**.

They wanted everyone to be safe, and they were happy to stay home to make the world slightly less awful than it would otherwise be. The list helped them channel their frustrations, though, and they mostly added to it in good spirits.

The newest addition carries a slightly more sincere tone, though. Calum stands in front of the fridge chugging his water and reads **_fuck covid for ruining another anniversary_**.

Calum finds Michael lying outside in the grass with the dogs piled on top of him. It’s hot out, and even the dogs don’t seem to want to run around.

“What are you doing?” Calum asks, standing over Michael to cast a shadow over his face, protecting his eyes from the sun.

“Playing with the dogs,” Michael says.

“Right,” Calum says, because they’re all sleeping. “You know we have air conditioner inside? You’ll all feel better in there.”

“I’m tired of inside,” Michael says. He goes through this phase every couple of weeks. It turns out that while Michael desperately craves alone time, he also gets bored of doing the same thing all day, every day, for months on end.

“I’ll make you lunch,” Calum says. He doesn’t know what they have, because they keep putting off grocery shopping, but quarantine has only given him more time to explore his cooking skills, and he’s gotten pretty good at figuring something out.

“I already ate,” Michael says.

“Really? What did you eat?”

“Leftover stir fry,” Michael says.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel less – less like this?”

“No,” Michael says defiantly.

“Okay, I’ll be inside, then.” Calum turns and walks halfway back to the house, before turning back. “Don’t let the dogs overheat!”

“I’m keeping an eye on them,” Michael calls back, entirely serious.

Calum walks back into the kitchen and stares at the list on the fridge for a long moment.

It’s might not be perfect, but Calum will not let a worldwide pandemic ruin another anniversary. Not this one, not this year.

Michael’s been closed up in his gaming room for a few hours, and Calum has everything ready. He can’t take Michael to all of their favourite places, but in the end, being here at home with Michael will always be Calum’s favourite place, anyways. He makes a mental note to say that to Michael, at some point during his speech.

Calum can’t take Michael to the first restaurant they ate at in LA, and they don’t usually do delivery, but Calum made some calls and pulled some strings and had them deliver.

Calum can’t take Michael to a private room in a karaoke bar, with all of the songs they’ve ever written each other loaded up, but Calum has all of those songs on his phone, including the ones that they’ll never release. He sets up a playlist and connects it to their outdoor speakers.

Calum _can_ prepare a dessert picnic, which he does. He has cheesecake and chocolate covered strawberries and animal cookies, because they’re Michael’s favourite, and champagne, because they’re celebrating. He sets it up on their big pool raft, the one that is nearly too big to float around the pool.

He texts Michael from the raft, tells him **_I ordered food. Come outside_**.

Less than a minute later, Michael appears. “Why are we eating outside? And why are you playing our band?”

“I like our band,” Calum says. Michael will catch on eventually, probably.

“What is all this?”

“A picnic under the stars, sort of,” Calum says. The sun is just starting to set, but they can stay outside until it becomes a picnic under the stars.

“Why?”

“It’s our anniversary,” Calum says. Michael huffs and clambers onto the raft awkwardly, trying to keep from slipping into the water himself, or from sending Calum in.

“We don’t celebrate anniversaries,” Michael says.

“We try to, we just fail, usually.”

The song changes and Calum can see on his face that Michael realizes. He looks down and notices the food, knows immediately where it’s from. “Wait, is this the five year anniversary plan?”

“Modified, but yes.”

“I thought that was supposed to be for your proposal, now,” Michael teases. He helps himself to his food, shoves a forkful of macaroni into his mouth.

Calum thinks about the plan, about the speech and the champagne and the perfectly timed playlist, and he thinks of all of their failed anniversaries, and all of their messy firsts, and he thinks, _fuck it_.

“Well,” Calum shrugs, reaches into the picnic basket and pulls out the ring box.

Michael nearly chokes on his food, but recovers quickly. “Really? Now?”

“Why not?” Calum asks, tosses the box over to Michael. Michael opens it and looks for a moment, then slides it onto his finger.

“It’s a nice ring,” Michael says.

“Thanks, I picked it out on my own.”

Michael snorts. “No, you didn’t.”

“Mali came, but I picked it,” Calum says. He picks up his sandwich and starts eating, and Michael keeps eating too. “So you’ll have to cross that last item off of the list, I guess.”

“You think this saved the anniversary? Even you admitted that the plan was modified.”

“Modified for the better, I think,” Calum says, nodding meaningfully down at Michael’s hand.

“For the better? You haven’t even technically asked the question.”

“Well you haven’t technically given an answer,” Calum fires back.

“The question traditionally comes first,” Michael laughs.

“Fine. Will you marry me?”

“You’re lacking the theatricality I’ve come to expect.”

“Fuck you,” Calum laughs. “I’ll take that ring back.”

“No, it’s mine now, Michael says. He grins wide, looks down at it. “Yes, by the way.”

“Fucking right, it’s a yes.”

“Let’s get married after tour, next year,” Michael says, later, when everything is put away and they’re in bed.

“Not like, the day after. That would be a bitch to organize.”

“Tour ends on a Monday, let’s get married the second weekend after. That gives us like, a week and a half,” Michael says.

“The Saturday?”

“I hate Saturday weddings,” Michael says.

“Fine, the Friday, then?”

Michael hums. “Yeah, that works for me.”

Calum stops, thinks for a second, pulls out his calendar on his phone. “Michael, that would be August 6th.”

“Really?”

“If we pick that day, our wedding will be a disaster.”

“It’s just a day, Calum,” Michael laughs.

“It is just a day,” Calum concedes. “And it’ll be easy to remember, at least.”


End file.
